Snake Charmer
by MirrorofDarknessFlame
Summary: Hermione has moved on, but when her past comes to haunt her and she is asked to return to Hogwarts, what will become of her? What ghosts will she be forced face? What memories will resurface? Post War, Hr x D, Not HBP or Deathly Hallows compliant.
1. Of Past and Present

**MODF:** Hello, everyone! This is my newest little piece of Fanfiction which I have been waiting to do for a LONG time. I'm so happy! WHEEE!

**Info:** Hermione left the Wizarding world after it happened. She tries to put it all from her mind, but what happens when echoes of her oppressed past haunt her and she is asked to return once again to the place she called Home?

**Warnings:** Post-war and Post-Character death. Do not read if this upsets you.

Romantic relationships to take place. Do not read if you are a pureblood/hate Muggleborns, 'cause this pairing will FRY YOUR ARSE :D (Or rather, Lucius will fry your arse for reading it. XD)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters here and within (unless I state otherwise… which I probably won't.) I am not making a profit off of this, people! It's simply for entertainment! J. K. Rowling is the brilliant mastermind behind the Potterverse. So… On with the Fanfiction!

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Of Past and Present**

Hermione Granger sat sipping a cup of tea, eyes moving rapidly back and forth as she devoured the words on the pages of the book that sat propped up on the table in front of her. Her long, bushy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that reached the base of her shoulder blades, and she donned a sensible white satin camisole with a pleated white skirt just to her knees. On her feet were white open-toed shoes that made a gentle clicking noise as she tapped her feet subconsciously on the cobblestones beneath the café table. She wouldn't normally wear something so very dressy, however as she was meeting someone, (in Muggle London, no less,) she thought it foolish to arrive in her normal attire of an ordinary grey pleated skirt, white blouse, and black robes. She did, of course, keep it within reason, not wanting to make too much of a compromise of herself.

You would often find her at this café, mostly after 6:00, sipping her tea, never with the same book as the time before. She liked it a lot because of the quiet atmosphere, the quaint white table-cloths and crimson roses uses in the center vase. She was also content to talk to the waiters and waitresses there, as they all knew her as a frequent visitour. They also did well to know that she always took just one lump of sugar with her tea, but that she liked extra cream. They also knew that when she comes around 3:00, as she often did on the week-ends, she takes biscuits with her tea as well. It was the kind of quiet place where the clientele are all close, like a family of sorts.

In any case, she was there for business rather than pleasure that day. That very morning she had received a summons for a meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts by request of the Ministry; she was asked to choose a comfortable location. She hadn't the slightest idea as to the subject of this meeting— It had been a long time since she had spoken to him, (four years, to be exact), and now seemed like an odd time for him to request an audience. She came, nonetheless, as she always did.

'Is this seat taken?' She looked up into a pair of emerald eyes, constantly sparkling with some innate sort of mischief and happiness, just as his father before him. She smiled widely up at him from her book.

'It never is, Harry.' She looked him over, finding that he had changed little. He still wore the same round, black spectacles and his skin still looked rather paler than it should, and his hair stuck up oddly in all directions, despite any attempts he makes to force it flat. He wore a dressed down black suit and waistcoat with no tie and black shoes. His body was more muscular since the days of the war, and she knew it was considerably more scarred, although one couldn't tell with just a glance. He grinned back, sitting across from her at the little white table.

'It's been ages, huh 'Mione? I only wish that it wasn't this sort of occasion that we should have to see each other again…' Her expression fell a bit, and she nodded solemnly.

'It didn't have to wait for an occasion. We both know that,' she replied sadly. 'But it's not as though there haven't been chances… For both of us…' She smiled at him then. 'Let's hope that next time we speak, it will be sooner than four years!' She laughed, but her eyes shone with tears. He gave her that same lop-sided grin that he had all those years ago when she left.

'We can only hope! But anyways, there was a reason for me calling for you today. You see, I've come to ask a favour of you, if you're willing to listen…?' She hesitated slightly, before finally nodding at him. 'Thanks, 'Mione. You see, there have been some problems at Hogwarts lately… The new term, as I'm sure you are well aware, is about to begin at the school.' She grinned at this point— Of course she knew. She thought about it all of the time, often in spite of her own oppression of old memories. 'And with Professor McGonagall's retirement, we are desperately in need of a Transfiguration Professor. We've had some prospects; there have been plenty of applications, Merlin knows, but none of them with the brilliance and credentials that I know you have. We want the best for our students, and I know for a fact that the only one who fits that description is you. So what do you say, 'Mione… Will you come back? Will you rejoin the Wizarding World? If not for me, than do it for yourself. You're a brilliant witch— you should be using your talents rather than living here and letting them go to waste.' He regarded her closely, watching as conflicted expressions flitted across her face.

'Harry… I don't think I can do that. I didn't plan on ever going back. I left for a reason…'

'Yes, but you can't hide forever. You have to move on. You can't let the past keep you from what you have to do. Please… Come back to Hogwarts, 'Mione. We'd be glad to have you!' Harry smiled, casting

a pleading glance. Hermione closed her eyes, turning away slightly.

'I have a job…' She murmured. 'I can't just—'

'You can! You can give your notice of resignation, and you can leave for Hogwarts tomorrow!'

'I have a life…'

'And you still will, teaching at Hogwarts with us.'

'Harry…'

'Hermione… Come back. Please.' He took her hand and grinned. Slowly, her gaze moved from her shoes upward to look into a shining pair of emerald eyes.

_"I never could say no to those eyes,"_ she though idly, as she let out a sigh of defeat. 'I must be mad, but I'll do it, Harry. I'll teach Transfigur— EEK!' She yelped as Harry leapt from his seat onto her, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

'I knew you'd come through, Hermione! Thank you!' He laughed as he untangled their limbs and got to his feet. 'Shall we expect you by tomorrow?'

'Er… Yes. I just have to get my affairs in ordre, and I should be at Hogwarts by tomorrow evening.'

'Good! You'll be in time for the start of the year feast, I hope?'

'I wouldn't miss it.' They smiled and embraced, and she waved him off. Sitting down, she picked up her book, dog-eared her page, and closed it before setting it down on her lap. 'The cheque, if you please?

* * *

Hermione sighed as she entered her one-bedroom on the outskirts of London. Excluding the transformation of what used to be her very flighty boss into a full-fledged train wreck, the stapler she threw, and the bruise that it left on Hermione's arm when it hit her, the day had gone… Well, it was just dreadful. Beyond dreadful; it was mortifying. Her boss did not take well to her news of resignation, and immediately after receiving it, she proceeded to burst into tears, claiming she could not do with such a great book keeper, had an angry fit, cursed her in three different languages, and threw a stapler at her when she tried to retreat. All in a time span of about five minutes. Absolutely mortifying. 

Walking through a dark corridor off of her tiny kitchen, she opened a door on the left at the very end, and stepped into her room. It was quite plain, with sponged, azure walls with nothing on them. In the furthest corner sat a lonely oak desk, polished perfectly with not a thing out of place. On it was a small desk lamp, a stack of 'How-to' and informational books, and a pen cup holding several pens and pencils as well as a few odd quills. On the other side, pushed against a wall was a single bed with plain cotton sheets that matched the walls. On one blank wall there was nothing but a picture window that overlooked the city, and a seat beneath it.

Placing her book on the desk, Hermione sat down in the chair, reached onto her neck and grasped a thin, shimmering gold chain with a key attached to it. She regarded it sadly as she took the necklace off and put the key into to lock of the bottommost drawer. There was a slight click as the lock opened, and the drawer squeaked when as she opened it. There was nothing there but dust, (or so it would seem), but she reached in and took something out. She gripped onto cool airy cloth, and when removed it came into sight.

'This is… This is Harry's cloak.'

_Angry red light slashed through the darkness like knives thickly coated in blood._

She stumbled as she sprung up from her chair, groping at the wall in attempt to support herself.

_Screams came from all directs, and the crumpling, crushing noises of bodies hitting the hard ground echoed everywhere._

She couldn't see, but she still heard the screaming.

_'RON! RON! WHERE ARE YOU?'_

She sobbed. She couldn't breath, she couldn't see, but she still heard the screaming.

_'HERMIONE! I'M OVER HERE!' Ron materialized out of thin air as he whipped of Harry's invisibility cloak. _

_'RON! Harry's over there! We have to help him!'_

'Ron.' The namewas spilled in a chokedgaspfrom Hermione's mouth as she dropped to her knees.

_'NO! Stay here! There are Death Eaters everywhere! Stay here where it's safeand I'll help Harry!'_

_'RON! DON'T GO!'_

'Don't… Don't go Ron…' She curled up into the corner of her desk, back up against the wall.

_Ron saw it coming before Hermione. As he went to whip the cloak back on, Lucius Malfoy ran towards her, wand at the ready, a curse on his lips. 'HERMIONE!' Ron ran at her, wrapping her in a protective embrace as he stood between her and the blast. She saw Malfoy, and spit a stunning curse at him from over Ron's shoulder. Malfoy crumpled to the ground. Ron went heavy in their embrace, and began falling._

_'Ron. RON! Wake up! Please… PLEASE!' She grasped at the cloak he had clutched in his hand just as he fell heavily to the cold, hard ground. The cloak tore in her hands, and she stood there for what seemed like eternity, clutching that small piece of torn cloth._

She sobbed silently into the piece of cloth grasped tightly to her breast, and that is where she lay for hours until she fell asleep late that night in the cold, unforgiving darkness. The same darkness that swept away her dreams all those years ago on that dark autumn evening when the night screamed for the death of innocence.

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**MODF:** It would be lovely if you'd review, please and thank you :D Feedback would be nice! 


	2. Of Ghosts and Home

**MODF: **Hello, all! I'll make it short and sweet… Here's Chapter Two!

**Info:** Hermione left the Wizarding world after it happened. She tries to put it all from her mind, but what happens when echoes of her oppressed past haunt her and she is asked to return once again to the place she called Home?

**Warnings:** Post-war and Post-Character death. Do not read if this upsets you.

Romantic relationships to take place.

Do not read if you are a pureblood/hate Muggleborns, 'cause this pairing will FRY YOUR ARSE :D

(Especially if you are from Slytherin, or if you are Snape, who hates everything with a burning passion.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters here and within (unless I state otherwise… which I probably won't.) I am not making a profit off of this, people! It's simply for entertainment! J. K. Rowling is the brilliant mastermind behind the Potterverse. So… On with the Fanfiction!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**

**Of Ghosts and Home**

Hermione awoke that morning on her floor still crouched in the corner, not feeling at all as refreshed as she should after sleeping for so long. Groaning, she picked herself up off of the polished wood floor and, glancing over at her desk, saw the long black box flipped over with her wand balancing precariously on the edge of the desk. Grasping the wand in her shaking hand she suddenly felt the old comfort of wielding it swell inside of her.

'Wingardium Leviosa,' she whispered, a small smile on her face. The box put itself back together and floated back into the drawer. The drawer shut itself with another flick of her wand.

_"Packing should be easy now that I have my wand,"_ she thought to herself. _"But there's always what to do about this flat..."_

She contemplated leaving it 'as is', butimmediately dismissed the idea, shuddering at the thought of the inches of dust she would have to clean upon her return. She was far too attached to it to let it go, so she eventually decided upon leaving the keys with her neighbour, a kindly lady who she knew wouldn't mind cleaning up, as she offred to do it all of the time anyways. She would just have to send her some money for doing it… She would also have to continue paying rent. And there was always her previous job, which she would have to resign from immediately. Sighing, she left off to start her day with some tea and some toast at the café.

* * *

By five o'clock Hermione had her affairs settled and by six o'clock she was strolling leisurely about the village of Hogsmeade, glancing at the items in the shop windows as she passed them. She had opted to apparate to Madame Rosmerta's as it was much easier to move baggage that way. She simply left it with Rosmerta, (who, in her thirties, still looked just as radiant as she ever had,) who had it sent up to the castle.

Now she found herself reminiscing about old times in the warm, silent streets of that little village. It was something straight from her past as she walked along by herself, and suddenly she was 13 again. It was her first trip to Hogsmeade, but Harry didn't get a slip to permit him entrance, she was walking alone with Ron.

She was 15, on her way to the Hog's Head, where she was to help organize 'Dumbledore's Army,' the small club working against the evil Dolores Umbridge as well as the corrupted Ministry of Magic.

She was 20, running down the road, wrapped in a traveler's cloak, beside Ron and Harry. They were running towards the horrid tortured screaming coming from the other end of the street.

She was 21, walking from the castle, her back turned on everything she had held close, everything she had known for a greater part of her life.

And then she was 25 once more, walking in silence towards lingering ghosts and memories from her past. She had a feeling she could not shake. A feeling deep inside that the road to reconciliation with her past would not be as smooth as the road she walked on that warm summer evening.

* * *

There was a single carriage awaiting her arrival in the dusky nightfall. Te air around her was thick with heavy, sickly sweet perfumes emitting from flowers and trees on the outskirts of the school grounds. The carriages were the same as she had remembered them; dark and looming they were still pulled by a pair of shadowy, skeletal Thestrals whose blank eyes shown brightly at Hermione as she stared at them. She grimaced as she ran her hand across the bony back of one of them, remembering that night she and her friends rode these beasts to the fateful battle at the Department of Mysteries.

_"Harry had lost some of himself the night Sirius died_,' she thought to herself, sighing sadly. _'We all did …"_

The door to the carriage swung open with a slight creak and she carefully stepped inside. The road was a bit bumpy, but she was thankful for the carriage as it started to downpour. The cool summer rain hit causing eerie mists to furl up from the grounds, bleeding red in the setting sun. The carriage bumped along, and looking into the distance she could see the familiar imposing figure of Hogwarts Castle looming overhead, a giant shadow against the watercolour skies.

Hermione stared out into the mist, into space, until the carriage shuddered to a halt and she stepped out of it. She looked up in awe and reverence at those heavy wooden doors that were as a stronghold to the great stone fortress. Pulling them open she was breathless upon entering the Entrance Hall of the castle. It was exactly as she had seen it the first time; the same old paintings decorated the same stone walls. The same rich red carpeting was draped over the same stone floors. The same suits of armour stared at her as she entered, and as she looked up, the ceiling was so high she almost couldn't see it. She couldn't help but smile as she looked at the door that led to an antechamber, remembering the first time she had entered, led there by Professor McGonagall to await her sorting. She remembered the nervousness in the pit of her stomach at the mystery of what was to happen next.

Smile still touching her lips, Hermione took a deep breath and pushed through another set of doors— the doors to the Great Hall. It was the point of no return. They opened with a loud 'whoosh', and wonderful chattering of students and clinking of silverware poured out, filling her with their echoing laughter. She felt comforted walking into the familiar room. She was finally home.

Thousands of heads turned in her direction as she entered the Great Hall, and the chattering grew louder as she proceeded down the aisle between two of the long, wooden tables toward the staff table at the head of the room. Looking towards it, she still half-expected to see Dumbledore's wonderful eyes twinkling at her, Snape's angry glaring at random students in the Hall, and McGonagall's stern glance as she spoke with her colleagues. She found that time had changed this part of Hogwarts; the place where Dumbledore once sat was now occupied by Harry, whose emerald eyes gleamed as he looked into hers and smiled. Where McGonagall once sat was a now empty chair, which was presumably for her. And where Snape would have sat was a stunningly attractive man with slicked back platinum blonde hair and eyes grey-blue like stormy winter skies. Those striking eyes met hers for only a moment before they narrowed at her and looked away. Tearing her eyes away she stood before Harry who, embracing her, whispered gently into her ear.

'Welcome home, 'Mione. We're glad to have you back.'

* * *

Draco Malfoy had been quite curious to know who exactly Potter had found to replace Minerva McGonagall as the Transfiguration professor. While he had constantly questioned the Man about the holder of the position— every day for one whole month, to be precise— he was waved off each and every time. This was due, of course, to Potter's lack of awareness. If he knew anything at all he would know that when a Malfoy wants something, a Malfoy gets it. Always. Of course Potter was a stubborn fool, and so Draco was forced to await the new Professor's arrival.

He had to admit himself to be taken aback when he saw none other than Hermione Granger stroll through the doors of the Great Hall half way through the Welcoming Feast, a small smile tugging at her lips, cheeks flushed from the warmth of outside. Not too much had changed since they had last saw each other; Her hair was bushy as ever, but thankfully it was pulled into a ponytail at the back of her head, keeping it slightly tame. Her skin was the colour of butter cream, and he couldn't help but notice that the soft black cotton skirt trailed down over miles of long, smooth leg. Were he not a man of dignity, it was likely he would have drooled. He also couldn't help but notice that the same heavy air of practicality and bookishness practically _radiated_ around her. No, her appearance changed slightly, but she was more than likely the same old Granger.

Their eyes met only for a brief moment; he didn't allow himself too long to gaze into her big, brown eyes before giving her a Malfoy-esque glare (purely for show,) and looking away. He couldn't be caught staring at her without cause, of course. That would be undignified. Potter embraced her and whispered something in her ear before tapping his wand against his glass and turning to address the students.

'Boys and Girls, Ghosts and Staff, I beg your attention for just a few short moments before you go about your business. I would like to present to you our new Transfiguration teacher, Professor Hermione Granger. I am quite sure you will make her feel welcome here, as she is my guest and has come to teach you as a favour to me.' Everyone clapped for her, including the Draco himself who clapped politely, and she flashed a smile before taking the empty seat next to Harry. The feast went on as it had before, and her glance never returned to look upon him.

* * *

**MODF**: Wheeee! Sorry about it taking so long… It was Draco's little section that took the longest, actually. Damn him! XD So yeah… Your reviews would be lovely! I know I have two people who added it to their favourites list, but only one review … Special thanks to my first reviewer, Sweetblood-theDraconianDevil. Chiao for now! 


	3. Of Classes and Banter

**MODF:** Hello, everyone! Long time, no read, eh? So here's the next chapter, I won't delay it any longer…

**Info:** Hermione left the Wizarding world after it happened. She tries to put it all from her mind, but what happens when echoes of her oppressed past haunt her and she is asked to return once again to the place she called Home?

**Warnings:** Post-war and Post-Character death. Do not read if this upsets you.

Romantic relationships to take place- Do not read if you are a pureblood/hate Muggleborns, 'cause this pairing will FRY YOUR ARSE :D (Or rather, Bellatrix will kill you with drapery for reading it! XD)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters here and within (unless I state otherwise… which I probably won't.) I am not making a profit off of this, people! It's simply for entertainment! J. K. Rowling is the brilliant mastermind behind the Potterverse. So… On with the Fanfiction!

* * *

Chapter Three

Of Classes and Banter

Hermione woke up in a friendly four-poster with crisp, clean cotton sheets. The atmosphere of her private quarters could only be described as warm. The cold stone of the walls and floors was offset by rich, red throw carpets that matched the deep mahogany of the dressers and bed frame. There were candles in deep crimsons sitting on step-shelves on the walls, and there were two portraits hanging side by side, both of which pictured now sleeping occupants. The first was one of Uric the Oddball who seemed to have fallen asleep in the midst of doing a handstand, while the other was an old witch with an oversized nose and thick silver spectacles.

Just off of her room was a kitchenette, with several fully stocked cupboards (tea, sugar, seasoning, and other things of that sort,) as well as a dining table. The table was small, set with four matching chairs in deep mahogany, upholstered with deep scarlet velvet. There was a sitting room as well, in which there was scattered a few bits of furniture, the largest piece of which was a chair, (which, of course, was trimmed in the same red as most everything else), which sat directly in front of a very large fire place.

She also had her own bath that greatly resembled those that the prefects had been privileged to use; there was a deep tub, although it was not quite as large as that of the prefects, and the taps had similar jeweled tops indicating the type of bubble bath mixed in with the water. After much experimenting that first morning, she found that a tap with a shimmering sapphire jewel set in the silver produced a wonderful frothy white mixture that smelled of warm vanilla, a scent so beautiful it compelled her to take a long, luxurious bubble bath to relax her before starting her day.

She had stayed up most of the previous night in order to write up a rigidly structured, meticulously specific lesson plan for each of her classes, (including a set of back-up plans for each class should something go wrong). But of course, after years and years of working under such grueling conditions, she found herself quite prepared to work tirelessly that day. After taking a short breakfast in her sitting room, (and practically forcing some food upon the house elf who brought it to her), she left off to start the day.

Hermione smiled upon entering her classroom, the occupants of which were chattering loudly, even in lieu of her presence there. A group of boys who sat close to the door had their heads together in a tight-knit group whipped around to look at her as she walked by. All three of them grinned before returning to their excited chattering. She placed her books in a neat stack on the corner of her desk at the front of the classroom, and taking a deep breath, she pulled out her wand and with a simple flick caused ever shutter in the room to slam shut simultaneously. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness, and all chattering stopped immediately. With another flick they opened, revealing a rather large group of wide-eyed third year students to stare at Hermione, who grinned at her place behind the desk.

'Now that I have your attention… Hello, my name is Professor Granger, and I am to be your new Transfiguration teacher. I think I will begin today with a simple review to test your capabilities before going into anything terribly complicated. First, will everyone please grab a mouse; we will be turning them into teacups.'

Draco sat and watched as cauldrons simmered away gently over small flames in front of each of his students. He kept seeing her walking into the hall, and it reminded him of years long since passed. He had hated her so then…

'Hated? Past tense? Why say hated when the feelings never changed?' He glared out into space, unknowingly causing one of the poor little second years in the first row to jump and knock over several vials which shattered in a tinkling of glass on the dungeon floor. 'The war had changed things, they had been civil to one another when need be, but it had never changed that hate,' he muttered under his breath. 'I'm only thinking about her because I was shocked to see her back.' Nodding to himself in confirmation of his thoughts, he began to correct the dismal summer homework papers handed in by some his more horrible seventh years.

'_I could tell right away that the potion was a sleeping drought because when I slipped it into some soup my brother was eating at dinner, he fell over and almost drowned in it.'_

That's what he got for assigning potion samples for inspection outside of class.

* * *

To Draco it seemed to be forever before the time for lunch arrived, but for Hermione it was all too soon. She found her classes to be quite satisfying; her students were bright and despite the fact that a particularly nervous student aimed her wand at her friend rather than her mouse and turned her into a teacup, there were hardly any accidents. In any case it was a lovely teacup, and so she only deducted a minimal point value for lack of aim. She could tell McGonagall's handiwork when she saw it, of course. Were it not for the sternness and strict conduct of her former professor, she doubted that her students would be quite so skilled in their transfiguration work. 

The scene at lunch that day was quite interesting indeed for anyone who had known the school-age Hermione; she sat at the staff table slowly making her way through the food on her plate, a large text propped up on a pitcher of pumpkin juice in front of her. She would be bothered by only minimal interruption for conversation and every once in a while for a swig of pumpkin juice from her goblet.

'Time can't change everything, eh?' She looked up to see Harry standing above her, lopsided grin on his face and his hair as messy as ever. 'Let me guess- You got it for a "bit of light reading"?' She couldn't help but smile back now.

'Good afternoon, Harry!'

'Good afternoon. How were your first classes?'

'Actually, they went quite well.'

'Unless you were one of the students or so I hear.' They both turned to see the confident face of one Draco Malfoy. 'The workload you gave them was all they could seem to talk about at the start of class,' he said with an amused smirk.

'Nice to see you too…' She said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

'Now, children. Play nice, or I'll take points from both your houses!'

'It's been a long time since those days, hasn't it Harry?' She said smiling.

'For you, maybe! I, on the other hand, won't let you take any points from _my_ house Potter. As head of Slytherin house, I'm telling you that you can't do that.'

'And as Headmaster of this school, I'm telling you to kiss my arse, Malfoy!' The banter was good natured, said with smirks lacking the malice of their youths. She noticed it right away; they were friends now, and any fighting was just play between friends. She looked at Draco's eyes as he continued to toss insults back and forth with Harry. They lack that pewter hardness they once had, but they still had a devious air about them. And they were such pretty eyes…

She shook herself mentally. 'Did I just call Malfoy's eyes… Pretty? What on earth is wrong with me?' 'Not that I wouldn't like to stay for this little reunion- And you _know_ would,' she said, noting that Malfoy rolled his eyes at her, and she decided she was going to get him for that later when she had had time to think, 'but I've got to go prepare for my afternoon lessons. Goodbye, Harry, and a good day to you Malfoy.'

She grabbed her book and walked briskly out of the hall and down the corridor. She had no mirror, but she could feel her face had flushed. 'What is wrong with me?' She ran up the stairs, and didn't stop until she reached her classroom. She shut the door, and sighing she leaned up against it. 'What is wrong with me?' She repeated to herself. 'Nothing,' she decided immediately with a sharp nod of self-confirmation. 'It was just an awkward moment filled with a strange and made up spot just to break the silence. That's all.' And it was all. She went on to preparing her lessons, and she (hardly) gave it another thought.

* * *

It really was quite amusing to watch Granger at the staff table that afternoon. It was like an odd flashback to his youth. She nibbled at her lunch slowly while reading some insanely large volume that she had propped up in front of her. And god forbid someone should speak to her; they would receive an odd series of grunts, nods, and 'mmm-hmms' for answers to any or all questions they asked. And furthermore, she acted as though he wasn't there. Who did she think she was? The least she could do was acknowledge his presence there, for Merlin's sake! He was _Draco Malfoy!_ And she was Hermione Granger! They should have at least exchanged hateful glares by now. He waited, but halfway through lunch he realized his glaring at the side of her head was to no avail. 

He watched then as Harry got up from his seat and walked over to her, a barmy sort of grin pasted across his face. 'Time can't change everything, eh?' Of course she acknowledged him straight away. 'Let me guess- You got it for a "bit of light reading"?' She smiled at him, and Draco felt quite insulted.

'Good afternoon, Harry!'

'Good afternoon. How were your first classes?'

'_Wretched, I hope.'_

'Actually, they went quite well.'

'_Damn her. Well, I suppose this is my chance to take a stab at her…'_

'Unless you were one of the students or so I hear.' They both turned to look at him, and he smirked. 'The workload you gave them was all they could seem to talk about at the start of class.'

'Nice to see you too…' She said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.

'_Much better,'_ he thought smugly.

'Now, children. Play nice, or I'll take points from both your houses!'

'It's been a long time since those days, hasn't it Harry?' She with an amused smile. Draco didn't find it that funny.

'For you maybe! I, on the other hand, won't let you take any points from _my_ house, Potter. As head of Slytherin house, I'm telling you it's unethical.

'And as Headmaster of this school, I'm telling you to kiss my arse, Malfoy!' He shot him a lopsided smile, and Draco continued to smirk.

'I'm a Malfoy. We're above ass-kissing. Only you do that sort of thing.' It was quick, he knew, but he didn't know whether or not Harry could come up with a commendable response, because at that moment Granger interrupted.

'Not that I wouldn't like to stay for this little reunion- And you _know_ would,' he rolled his eyes at her, 'but I've got to go prepare for my afternoon lessons. Goodbye, Harry, and a good day to you Malfoy.' In a rush, she scooped up her book and walked quickly out of the Great Hall. He brushed off her quick exit, and looked back at Harry.

'How many times can she possibly check a lesson plan, do you think?' Harry snickered.

'I'm not sure that I want to know.'

* * *

**MODF**: I was hoping this would be longer- But it wasn't. So oh well. I haven't much time lately, so writing is getting difficult, which upsets me. But whatever. I really hope that my lovely readers review for this, it would really lift my sunken spirits right now! Thank you, and see you next time (I hope)! 


	4. Of Runins and Shocking Invitations

**MODF:** Wow, can you believe this story was last updated one year and three days ago? That's incredible to me. I took a long break from Fanfiction, because I was having a hard time dishing out chapters by certain times to please readers. I won't promise you an update by a certain time, because I'll tell you right now that I can only write on a whim, and I won't try to force it. Hopefully I've still got some readers out there! Anyways, the long-awaited fourth chapter starts now:P

**Info:** Hermione left the Wizarding world after it happened. She tries to put it all from her mind, but what happens when echoes of her oppressed past haunt her and she is asked to return once again to the place she called Home?

**Warnings:** Post-war and Post-Character death. Do not read if this upsets you.

Romantic relationships to take place. Do not read if you are a pureblood/hate Muggleborns, 'cause this pairing will FRY YOUR ARSE :D (Or rather, Lucius will fry your arse for reading it. XD)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters here and within (unless I state otherwise… which I probably won't.) I am not making a profit off of this, people! It's simply for entertainment! J. K. Rowling is the brilliant mastermind behind the Potterverse. So… On with the Fanfiction!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Of Run-ins and Shocking Invitations**

He had no idea what he had done to deserve what was in store for him the next day, but it must have been something horrid. He thought of this because that afternoon, he was walking down the corridor on his way back from lunch when who should he run into but Hermione Granger; just the person he had been trying to avoid.

He meant this quite literally, actually. He turned the corner and BAM! They were both on the floor, as were the very large, dusty textbooks she had in her arms and the novel Draco himself had had on his person. He grumbled as he found himself lying on his back looking up at the cold, stone ceiling.

Draco sat himself upright, immediately wishing he had been knocked unconscious upon impact with the ground. There she lay sprawled, in all her [mudblood glory, spread-eagled on the floor. Her neatly pressed skirt was pulled up dangerously high on her thighs, and one of her white stockings was pulled down to her ankle. He shook himself out of what promised to be a bad train of thought as she groaned and began to stir. Quickly, he got up, brushed himself up, and out of what he told himself was graceful Malfoy courtesy, offered Granger a hand to help her up. She sat up and looked at his hand as though it was covered with thorns.

'Are you just going to sit there ogling like an idiot on the floor, Granger, or are you going to get up?' He said to her, narrowing his eyes in a most Malfoy-esque manner. She made a little sound of surprise before taking his hand and getting to her feet. She dusted off her skirt, muttered her thanks, and with a bright red face and downcast eyes she began to collect her things from the floor. Before he could even help, she had picked up all of the books— including his own. To his horror, she looked at it and smiled. When she looked up at him, she had a laugh in her bright brown eyes.

'I believe this is yours, Malfoy.' With a seething look, ('_Damn that smile!_') he took it from her outstretched hands and pocketed it.

'Go ahead and laugh Granger. I dare you,' He said with a burning glare. She only smiled at him and shook her head.

'I'm not going to laugh, Malfoy. It's just… Interesting, that's all.'

* * *

It was her fault, really. 

She was walking rather quickly, and she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was just at the corner of the turn in the corridor when who should she run into but Draco Malfoy.

It was her fault, really.

Not that she wanted to admit that to him. He was already pompous enough without her submission into taking the blame for _that._ In any case, she was dizzy as she sat herself up, and so she thought that she was hallucinating when she saw the pale hand that he had held out for her. That being the case, she only stared at it in wonder, as she sat on the stone floor, ('_So this is what this situation would be like if Draco Malfoy weren't a prick!_')

'Are you just going to sit there ogling like an idiot on the floor, Granger, or are you going to get up?' The remark brought her back to reality. Yes, that's right—Reality. Draco Malfoy, in what would be, (for anyone else), only a simple gesture of courtesy, was _actually_ offering to help a _Muggle-born_ off of the floor. ('_But what could he have done, step on her? It's a possibility, I'm sure…_') She made a small yet very embarrassing squeak of surprise before taking his hand and being lifted to her feet.

'Thank you,' she muttered meekly. She was blushing, she knew, so she kept her eyes on the floor as collected all of her books. Standing, however, she realized on of the books she had picked up, a tattered volume with not picture on the front, was not her own. The title, embossed in a dulling gold, read '"_Jane Austen" by Charlotte Brontë_'. She was in complete awe, and so had to smile in spite of herself.

'I believe this is yours, Malfoy.' She said kindly, smiling like a lunatic, to be sure. _'Ouch, that look almost burns,' _she thought to herself as he glared evilly at her.

'Go ahead and laugh Granger. I dare you,' He said to her with a look of pure malice.

'I'm not going to laugh, Malfoy. It's just… Interesting, that's all. After all, you don't seem to be the type for dark romance novels.' He raised one pale eyebrow at her

'I'm not. I do, however, know good writing when I read it.' It was her turn to raise an eyebrow now.

'You _do_ know that Charlotte Brontë was a Muggle, right?' He nodded.

'Of course I do. I'm no fool.'

'And you still read her book?' _'Well, that's new,'_ she thought to herself. He stuck his nose up at her.

'Some Muggles are capable of doing some good for the world, _Granger,_ but Muggles as a whole are complete dunderheads,' he said to her. And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Hermione to fume by herself.

'_He hasn't changed one bit.'_

* * *

Hall-o-ween was never a night that Draco particularly enjoyed. As a Malfoy, it was common fact that he was already perfect as is, and perfect people shouldn't go through any amount of trouble to conceal themselves. 

Furthermore, there were the obligatory parties that as a teacher he had no choice but to attend. Watching students have more fun than he himself was having was harrowing, and reminded him how much his private social life had dwindled with his teaching career. Companionship was difficult to find when you were in the constant company of co-workers and students.

But despite his constant ranting, the obligatory parties were still just that, and so he once again found himself victim to their "splendor". If you want to call students everywhere donning hideous disguises which only succeeded in making them look even more ridiculous than usual a sort of splendor, that is. Even though he was forced to attend the party on a yearly basis, he had never dressed for the occasion, and this year was no exception. And so Draco glared from his place at the staff table, keeping an eye out for rule-breakers from other houses who he could pummel with point deductions. He probably could have kept this practice up all night, except an inconceivably maddening voice snickered in his ear, breaking his concentration.

'I surmise that Snape would praise you for making such a commendable effort at scaring every one of these students to death,' the voice of Hermione Granger drifted smugly past his ears from her place next to him. He narrowed his eyes, not actually looking at her, but continuing to stare out into the crowd.

'You, Granger, haven't had to attend this ridiculous gala as a teacher until now. Had you been subjected to these festivities in years prior, you'd be glaring too. These students are absolutely contemptible.'

She laughed mockingly. 'Now Malfoy, don't be such a drama queen. This is _supposed_ to be fun. You're such a killjoy.'

'That's comical, coming from the girl whose idea of fun is reading Hogwarts: A History for the umpteenth time!' Draco smirked, and even from his profile view one could see that there was a gleam in his eyes that plainly said _'Why yes, as a matter of fact, I _am_ better than you!'_

'Very mature, Malfoy. And an absolutely _shocking_ subject matter to bring up. Tell me, will you ever get some new material? Maybe something I haven't already heard a thousand times before?'

He turned to her with a raised eyebrow, but this look was lost quickly as he saw how she had chosen to dress. Her hair was smooth and swept into a loose French twist clipped up on the back of her head. Small beads closely resembling dewdrops glitter in her brown locks, and there was an odd light glow around her body that was inexplicably beautiful. Her dress had thick straps with a belt about her midsection just below her bust, and a long gown bottom that slumped on the ground below her. The material was a snowy white, and it was so light and airy that it looked as though it had no weight at all. On it sparkled the same dewdrops in her hair. Her feet were bare, and protruding from her back were a pair of moving, sparkling, incredibly fascinating pair of fairy wings, which were very nearly translucent. And he almost died in the process of taking this all in. In hopes that she didn't catch this momentary lapse in composure, he grinned mischievously. He suddenly had an idea— if she wanted shocking, he would deliver.

'Would you like to dance?'

Silence.

He thought that in spite of the shock he had experienced just a few seconds ago, the invitation was very blasé, and he was extremely pleased when he saw the incredulous look etched across her face. She stared for what could have been forever before she finally replied with a single word.

'… What?'

* * *

Hermione strolled into the great hall a half hour late, finally pleased with her costume, which was supposed to closely resemble the muggle fairies of stories her parents read to her when she was very young. The wings themselves had taken several hours to transfigure, and the dew drops took several more. Several students stared at her as she passed, and she smiled as she witnessed the joviality of youth playing out all around her. 

Moving her gaze to the staff table she couldn't help but giggle out loud. Sitting in the spot that Professor Snape used to occupy was Draco Malfoy, looking particularly Snape-like as he glared angrily at anyone and everyone in the room. She slipped silently through the crowd, and knowing he had been too wrapped up in his angry staring to see her, she was able to creep into the seat beside him unnoticed. She took the opportunity to quickly observe that he had not only neglected to show up in costume, but that he looked so similar to his father when he glared that she was almost to the point of repulsion. Watching him glare in a way so similar to the previous potions professor was far too delicious to let the resemblance to his father stem her smugness, and so finally she decided to make her presence known.

'I surmise that Snape would praise you for making such a commendable effort at scaring every one of these students to death,' she said haughtily, grinning widely at him. He didn't look at her when he spoke.

'You, Granger, haven't had to attend this ridiculous gala as a teacher until now. Had you been subjected to these festivities in years prior, you'd be glaring too. These students are absolutely contemptible.'

She was laughing inside. He was such a whiner. 'Now Malfoy, don't be such a drama queen. This is _supposed_ to be fun. You're such a killjoy.'

'That's comical, coming from the girl whose idea of fun is reading Hogwarts: A History for the umpteenth time!' He was smirking, and she could see that 'Holier than thou' attitude shining in his eyes, even though he still refused to turn towards her.

'Very mature, Malfoy. And an absolutely _shocking_ subject matter to bring up. Tell me, will you ever get some new material? Maybe something I haven't already heard a thousand times before?' She said sarcastically, tilting her head to rest against her hand, brow raised to challenge him. When he finally turned to her it was with a similar look, but something odd flashed across hi eyes when they met hers. The pause was only slight, but it was unmistakedly a pause, and what he was thinking she could only speculate. Then he replied in an airy manner with something that almost knocked her off her chair.

'Would you like to dance?'

She couldn't speak. She almost forgot to breathe. Had Malfoy really just asked her to dance? Was he serious? What in the name of Merlin just went on there!? For once she had no real reply. She struggled with herself before saying the only thing that she could muster.

'… What?'

He was smirking. She was dazed but she could feel that he was smirking, hear it even. It was something in his voice. 'Dance? You know, people do that sometimes at parties?" Her eyes slipped back into focus and she was able to focus finally on his words.

'I _know_ what dancing is, you sarcastic prat, but what the hell do you think you're doing asking _me_ to dance with _you_!? Isn't it against your moral code or something?' She was all in all pleased with the poise in which she responded to him, but it really didn't matter how gratifyingly composed her answer had been, as he uncouthly snatched her hand up and all but dragged her away from the staff table. He held her hand, keeping the distance between them substantial, and then without warning he spun her in towards him, bringing her into position for a waltz.

Hermione felt dizzy, and she assured herself that it was because this was much closer to Draco Malfoy than she he had any desire to be. This may or may not have been true, but she would never know, because her head was reeling and she suddenly just stopped thinking. Her brown eyes, which had previously been looking past his shoulder, shifted to rest upon a pair of cool and comforting grey eyes, which were looking upon her with a look that she couldn't discern. They spun and spun, gliding across the dance floor with an incredible ease, swaying to a song that she couldn't hear anymore, not that it mattered anyways, as he was leading her.

Then, without warning, he dipped her, bringing her gracefully back to her feet and placing a soft kiss on her painted lips. The kiss was gentle and very uncharacteristic of a Malfoy, and she was sure she was hallucinating as she felt his gentle caress. And then the reality of the situation hit her, and she realized what was really happening. She felt a lurching in her stomach— A familiar lurch that told her that the past was coming back to get her again. Her eyes were open but she no longer saw the ball. She was falling into memories, falling back in to what she had tried so hard to leave behind her.

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**MODF:** Oooh, the suspense! Hopefully it won't be a year before you find out what happens XD Read and review if it pleases you! I know it would please me:D 


	5. Of Episoudes and Comprehension

MODF: It didn't take a year! I was so excited after finishing another chapter, I started right away on another! The reviews and alerts for the story and for my page contributed to my motivation:P Anyways, here's chapter five!

**Info:** Hermione left the Wizarding world after it happened. She tries to put it all from her mind, but what happens when the echoes of her oppressed past haunt her and she is asked to return once again to the place she called Home?

**Warnings:** Post-war and Post-Character Death. Do not read if this upsets you.

Romantic relationships do in fact take place. Don't read if you're canon obsessed or can't stand the thought of Het. XD

Also, don't read this if you're a death eater. The whole pureblood/mudblood thing will _really_ fry your arse. :D

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters here and within, unless otherwise stated by me. I am not making a profit off of this, people! It's simply for my own sick amusement! J.K.Rowling is the brilliant mastermind behind the Potterverse. Hence why she is far more well-off than I! XD So… On with the Fanfiction!

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Chapter 5

Of Episodes and Comprehension

She didn't see it coming. Ron jumped on her and wrapped her tightly in his arms, and her heart shattered with two words.

She could still see Draco, slipping in and out of the vision before her. She pushed him away, spinning in confusion before shakily regaining her balance a meter away. He walked towards her, slipping into her visions until she didn't know what was going around her.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'_ She saw Lucius Malfoy over Ron's shoulder._

Was it Lucius or Draco coming towards her through the crowd? She could feel it; it was Lucius with the desire for murder burning in his cold eyes. He was there in the Great Hall and he was there in her memory. He killed Ron and he had come back now for her! She—

_She spit out a stunning spell over her companion's shoulder_—

She yelled the curse across the Great Hall—

—_but in her arms Ron went limp and fell, still grasping her cloak, tearing it as he pulled away from her. _

Draco deflected the curse, and the students all back away as the watched the scene. Hermione was crying as she sank to the floor, hands over her face, tears dripping down her cheek and onto the floor.

'_Ron. RON! Wake up! Please… PLEASE!' She was clutching that bit of torn cloth, watching his body lie there, cold. The light in his eyes was gone. She knew then, before she bent over him, that he was dead. _

'_HERMIONE, WATCH IT!' She heard someone yell to her, but her eyes stayed glued on her fallen friend, her fallen love. _

'_AVADA KEDAVRA!' She knew it was over for her. She embraced the cold chill of Death that she knew must be rushing towards her, but it never came. She looked up, and through her teary eyes she saw Draco Malfoy, face twisted in anger, tears running down his cheeks. His wand arm was poised to strike, but the strike, she realized, had already happened. There was a chilling crumpling sound as the elder Malfoy fell to the ground. Dead…_

Hermione looked into Draco's eyes and knew that it was he. Those eyes shone back at him now, as he must have realized what she was seeing. And again there was sadness. She looked into his eyes and the eyes from her memory. Lucius Malfoy was dead, killed by his only child.

She looked into Draco's eyes, and he looked back at her. She could see in the anger that there was real pain there. But there was no time for pain now. She mouthed a silent thank you, sadness still staining her eyes, and he hurdled himself back into battle without a word.

She felt Harry's arms wrap around her, picking her up bridal style. They walked past Draco, who stood staring at them, and she felt Harry pause, and he whispered to Draco as they passed. 'Draco, make sure they go back to the festivities. I want this to still be a fun night. I'll take her to the hospital wing.' She looked up and thought for a moment she saw concern in those stormy eyes of his, but it was all gone to her as she fell silently into darkness. The concern may never have been there at all…

* * *

The gentle kiss he gave to her came out of no where. He could only think "What the hell are you doing, Draco?" as his lips slid gracefully over hers. The caress was gentle and sweet and warm, but without warning she pulled away from him. He thought for sure she had come to her senses and realized what she was doing, but as she regained her footing several meters away he knew differently. He looked into her eyes and didn't see her there— She looked at him but he couldn't feel her in the stare. Where was it she went?

He began to walk towards her but froze as she screamed a stunning spell at him from across the hall. He deflected it with some difficulty, and the whole crowd around them stopped and stared in fear at the scene before them. He looked into her eyes again and saw that she was still gone, but in her eyes he saw something else. Something dark resided there, and then he felt he knew what she had seen. She was in battle, she was in a place far away where she had lost her love and her life, and when she looked at him she saw his father.

She jerked, curling up onto the floor and crying, and for a third time she looked up into his eyes. She was seeing him now, and a look pain and remorse lingered in her gaze, and her lips mouthed at him silently.

'Thank you.'

It was just as she had done all those years ago, and his heart wrenched as the memory surfaced in the back of his mind. Hermione slumped then as Harry had run to pick her up. He carried her in his direction, and he was a bit dazed as Harry spoke to him.

'Draco, make sure they go back to the festivities. I want this to still be a fun night. I'll take her to the hospital wing.' He thought he had nodded, but he may not have. He looked at her concernedly, and met her partially open eyes with his troubled gaze. And then her eyes closed, and Harry carried her off towards the Hospital Wing.

He didn't want to stay. He wanted to go to her and to be sure she was okay. He knew what she had seen and he wanted to tell her that he was not his father. He wanted to make her know that she was nothing like that horror of a man. He wanted to—

He wanted to stop thinking like this. A Malfoy fretting over the safety of a muggleborn whom he had spent his whole life hating? This thinking was dangerous to everything he stood for, and so he stopped it right where it was.

'All right everyone, go on then! Professor Granger just had a bit of a spell. No harm done. The music, please?' The band commenced another song and the students chattered as once again they returned to dancing. Draco remained at the gala for the rest of the evening. After all, he was a Malfoy. It would be a compromise of his character for him to visit so soon without a viable excuse.

He would be sure to invent one as soon as he sat down for a strong drink.

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**MODF:** I know. It's short. But, hey! It's over a thousand pages. And it didn't take a year. XD

Review if you have a chance? It makes me really happy. :P


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